Bewitched
by portmanteaux
Summary: AU. Hermione/Sirius. Just a silly little oneshot in which a Muggle television program sparks a debate, and then something less academic.


I wrote this while watching television. Guess which show? I'm sure it's not an original idea, so I apologize for stepping on anyone's toes. It's just a silly little thing.

* * *

"Hermione!" Sirius shouted from the lounge. "Come look at this!"

Hermione marked her place and put down her book, following his voice out of the library and down the hallway. When she reached the him, he was standing in the middle of the room, jaw slack, staring at the television.

Generally, his amazement and confusion at television had faded over the months since Hermione had installed it as a birthday present.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, stepping up beside him and following his gaze.

"This is about a witch who married a muggle!" he said in awe. "This is a muggle creation?"

"Yes, it's called 'Bewitched,'" she replied with a chuckle. "It's an American television program from the '60s. I've seen most of the series. My mum liked it before she found out I was a witch. It's not bad for a muggle's imagining of what magic is like. There's transfiguration and apparition. Mostly she just conjures and levitates stuff around the house. Some of it's just ridiculous, though."

"They don't have wands. All the spells are just rhyming nonsense. And in the last one Endora turned what's-his-face into a werewolf. And then turned him back. As if it were that easy. Remus would love this show."

She sat on the couch with him and watched an episode.

"She ought to Obliviate that neighbor," Sirius said, pointing at the television. She watched him with a smile as he watched the screen. Who knew a muggle television program could enthrall a pureblooded Black?

She had seen this episode before. Samantha was trying to help Darrin with an advertising campaign, and he was angry at her because he thought she'd used magic.

"Prat," Sirius muttered beside her. She looked at him in surprise, and he elaborated. "The muggle wants her to give up magic, but of course she doesn't stop it completely. I think he's jealous that she's more powerful."

Hermione smiled at how thoroughly he'd been thinking about this.

"And her mother's obviously a pureblood who doesn't approve of her daughter's marriage. Especially since he makes her do everything the muggle way."

"He doesn't 'make her,'" Hermione disagreed. "But he does prefer to live without magic. To him, magic is strange and frightening. If people knew, they'd either think they were crazy or just freaks. She agreed because she loves him."

Sirius turned and looked at her. "Could you give up magic for someone you loved?" he asked hypothetically.

Her mouth went dry at the way he was looking at her.

"Well," she said slowly. "It would depend on who asked me to, and why…" she trailed off and looked up at him. "You can love someone enough to die for them. What's the difference?"

"Death is one thing, but magic is who you are, or a huge part of it!" he replied more emphatically than she expected. "You'd be giving up your identity as a witch, and a brilliant one!"

She was startled by his vehemence, but still blushed under his compliment. She reminded herself that he was just a friend who was enthusiastic about wizarding identity.

"Thank you, Sirius, but no one's asked me to give up anything," she reminded him gently.

He exhaled and softened his voice. "You're right, I got carried away. I'm just surprised you can be so cavalier about the prospect of giving up your world."

"I wouldn't be calm in reality," she assured him. "Of course I wouldn't want to give up magic. It would be the hardest decision of my life. But Samantha gave it up for love. I'd like to think that I could love someone that much."

He took a small step toward her. "I think that anyone who loves you should love you enough to accept you as you are. Why anyone would force a beautiful witch to give up her world and live a lie is beyond me."

Her heart rate shot up at the intensity of the look he was giving her while he said the words "beautiful witch," until she remembered that the conversation was about a television character.

"Samantha _is_ quite lovely," she agreed, looking back at the television screen.

"She's okay, too," he said beside her, his voice low and soft.

She looked back to see him still watching her with that expression on his face. She tried to make light of the situation with a chuckle. "Sirius, I don't think there's any danger of my falling in love with a muggle and giving up magic."

"Good," he replied. He reached out and grasped her hand with his, his fingers delicately stroking her wrist. "I would hate to lose you."

She swallowed, her throat dry again. They had had many types of interactions: casual flirtations full of loaded innuendos, fervent debates, exchanges of quick wit, but never these heated, earnest words.

"You'd hate to lose me from the wizarding world, or you'd hate to lose me to a muggle?" she asked boldly.

He gazed right back at her with a softness in his gray eyes she'd never seen. "Exactly."

To his chagrin, her eyes were suddenly defiant and she pulled her hand away from him like he'd pinched her.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why are you teasing me like this?"

Sirius wrapped his long fingers around her forearm. "It's not a joke. I've been fighting this for some time, you know."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Why?" she asked, to his astonishment.

"Hermione," he said tenderly. "You must have realized how fond I am of you."

She giggled, and when he looked at her curiously, she blushed harder. "I meant 'why have you been fighting it?'"

Before she knew what was happening, she was swept up into a kiss.

She couldn't stop the bubbling laughter that rose up and out of her, causing Sirius to break away from her lips and regard her with a look of consternation.

"I don't quite see what's so funny."

"One minute we're discussing _television_"—she hardly got the words out over her laughter—"and the next Sirius Black is _kissing_ me! This has got to be a prank or the strangest dream I've ever had."

Sirius's hurt over her laughter was replaced by smug amusement. "Do I often kiss you in your dreams?" he wondered and kissed her softly. "And do you always laugh at me?"

She smiled and pressed closer to him. "Your kisses are nothing to laugh at, Mr. Black. Your timing, on the other hand…"

"I like to be spontaneous."

"I'm pretty fond of you, too," she confessed.

His grin faded as he looked at her. "Hermione, I don't deserve you, but Merlin, I can't help wanting you. And I don't mean just for a shag, though that sounds like a nice place to start."

"I'd like that," she replied.

He kissed her lips softly, slowly easing her into a deeper kiss, pressing her back into the soft couch cushions. He kissed her neck and she responded with a sigh.

"Are you sure you want this with me?"

She nodded and unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, sliding her hands over as much skin as she could.

"I love these conservative little outfits you wear," he murmured, unbuttoning her blouse.

"What? Why?" she laughed, having seen the much less conservative attire of the witches he had brought home.

"I enjoy the suspense." He kissed the skin under his path. "Like unwrapping a present."

He touched every inch of her reverently, lowering his mouth to her breast.

She tugged at his waistband and murmured, "Off." He smiled and obliged, breaking contact with her to remove them and then returning his lips to her breastbone. He unzipped her skirt and pushed it with her knickers over her hips, brushing her thighs as his hands slid them down past her ankles and off her feet.

She pulled him into a passionate kiss, and he slid his body over hers. She pressed an inner thigh on both side of his hips and stroked his legs with her delicate feet. He released a breath he hadn't known he was holding as he slowly pushed his hips into hers over and over.

"You feel so good, love."

"Sirius," she murmured, closing her eyes and pushing her head back, offering her neck for him to kiss. He did, without fail, his hand now tangled in her hair, his thumb stroking her temple.

Her cries of pleasure pushed him headfirst into his own release.

As they lay together on the couch, calming down, Hermione suddenly broke into a soft chuckle.

"What now?" he asked.

"I just shagged _Sirius Black _in the_ living room_!" she said, pressing a palm to her forehead.

"I know; I was here."

"What have you done to me?" she wondered, gazing at him in awe.

"Well, as you've pointed out, I did shag you just now," he replied.

"You're corrupting me, making me do all manner of uncharacteristic things."

"You say that as though you didn't enjoy it."

"I did! And it's all your fault."

"Hermione Granger's pillow talk," he muttered.

"You bring something out in me."

"Laughter, apparently."

She kissed him to shut him up, and he didn't complain.


End file.
